


Touch

by NerdyGrlWonder



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Seperation, Touch-Starved, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:23:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyGrlWonder/pseuds/NerdyGrlWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've touched so often and intimately, that neither knew how much they craved it. Neither understood what it meant to them, until they couldn't touch any longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Touch Pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

> “We are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.”   
> ― Veronica Roth, Allegiant
> 
>  
> 
> This was inspired by the discussion that in the preview of 3.10, Ichabod astral projects himself to find Abbie but if only his spirit is there, that means that they cannot touch.

She felt his arms wrap around her in a comforting embrace. Moments prior, she thought she would lose him. _There’s always another way she told him_ ; and there had been. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized that his touch would be so necessary.

He reached out his hand to clasp hers and they entered the unknown. Whether he did so out of fear or reassurance, she couldn’t tell and it didn’t matter. In that moment, she desired his touch. She needed him to ground her. Even as he cradled the back of her head, then turned to leave her behind, it was his touch that made her believe his promise. _Remember our bond. I will come back for you. Have faith_. And so she had.

She reached frantically, wrapping his arms around her waist when she saw him. Purgatory was breaking her down and he had arrived right at the end of her tether. Only it wasn’t _him_. When she realized her error, she fought back. When _her_ Ichabod arrived, she was so elated and overwhelmed; all she could do was give him a fist bump. It would be enough for a time.

He grabbed her, calling her name in fear. They weren’t dead after all. Somehow, they had survived the blast that had killed Moloch. It seemed these days, even with his wife returned to him; he spent every waking moment with her. He found subtle ways to be near her. She tried to ignore the way his touch made her blood sing; how she coveted it.

It very well could be the last time in this or any other life that she had a chance to feel him. Staring him down, she walked to him and pulled him in for a hug. It was Ichabod Crane and yet, it wasn’t _her_ Ichabod Crane. It wasn’t the man she’d come to know and love. Still, it would do. He felt the same and that’s all that mattered.

God she was angry. She had every right to be. He’d up and left her. It didn’t matter whether or not she understood why. Feeling and emotions weren’t rational. They bubbled and festered and make you behave in ridiculous ways. But he had come back. He was contrite. And almost as quickly as he had come back to her, he could have been taken away. She pushed aside her anger, welcoming him home to the arms that had missed him so.

She could feel his hand, strong and steady on her shoulder as she led him through the darkness of Pandora’s lair. He may not know it, but this was likely the last time they would share such an intimate gesture. She would do what she had to do in order to save her sister and she suspected sacrificing herself was the only way to do it. _Take care of each other_ was all she could manage as she turned her back. The words she wanted to say died on her lips as she looked at him. She wondered briefly if she would miss his touch in death.

It had been ten months. She knew because she counted the days with small scratches on her cave walls. Ten months she’d been trapped, isolated, in this place. He came for her. He told her it had only been a month but that to him, it had felt like a lifetime. She ran to him, desperate to have his arms around her. She needed to feel him and inhale his scent. She craved the touch of his hands. So many times, she had envisioned reuniting with him, pressed flush against his chest. She thought of his lips kissing her brow, her cheeks, and her lips. She ran with abandon, speeding towards his arms only to be met with nothingness _. I’ve projected myself but I am not physically here, Lieutenant_.

 _I can’t do this anymore, Ichabod. I can’t! I have nothing left to give_. Never in her life had Abbie felt so defeated and so alone. She watched him walk towards her and promise her to return _. I promise you, I will free you from this place and when I do, I will never let you go again Abbie_.

She wanted to believe him, but her faith was shattered. When he came back to her, she lay on the ground wishing his image would simply disappear and spare her the torment of being reminded of life until he scooped her up and cradled her diminished form to his chest.

 _I promised you that I would return. I promised that I’d never let you go again, and I won’t_. His lips met hers, gently but firmly. It had been his touch that she craved and it was his touch that would save her.  

 


	2. Touch Pt. 2

He’d been without her for far too long. He’d never felt as broken, as hollow as the moment that his Lieutenant gave her life for that of her sister; for him and for the world. It may have been ridiculous, it may have been irrational, but he hated her for it.

The days without her dragged on like dripping molasses on a cold day. He barely slept and when he did, he’d recall her small hand reaching out for his, begging him to find another way. He’d dream of her grasping his arms and the look in her eyes when he told her he knew he’d give her soul to Moloch. Often times, he’d awake, bathed in a cold sweat with the lingering sensation of her diminutive form pressed flush against his.

Those moments were agony.

Jenny and Joe watched him warily but it wasn’t the empathy in their gazes that he felt. Oh, no. It was the fear he saw in Jenny’s eyes that gripped his heart like a vice. The thought, the mere notion that he may never again ‘accidentally’ brush up against Abbie, graze her hand when he hands her a cup of coffee; the very idea that he may never again feel her tiny hand caress his chest or his face made him cold inside.

He buried himself in the search, pausing only long enough to eat enough to keep him going. But even food brought back memories of her touch. He missed the impression and ability to give her a fist bump. He longed for the sensation of her arm brushing up against his when they worked side-by-side. He could feel her hands brushing foam from his lips. In both of his lifetimes, he’d never wanted to feel another person’s touch as badly as he needed Abbie’s.

Every spell, every lead, every clue led to nothing. Each day, he’d begin anew, speaking to her picture as if she were truly there. He would run a finger along her image and imagine he could feel her soft skin yielding to his touch, but it was never enough. His soul would not survive without hers. And it was that thought that propelled him.

When he saw her standing there, the air in his lungs fled in a rush. She was alive and she was before him; her eyes wild and a smile that could banish the rays of the sun. He longed to run to her, to grip her to his breast and never let her go. He ached with need to simply touch her. Abbie ran to and through him and though he wasn’t solid, he felt her like explosive lightning bursting through each of his nerve endings.

 _I promise you, I will free you from this place and when I do, I will never let you go again Abbie_. As he began to fade, he saw the light leaving her eyes and knew he’d move heaven and hell to bring her back home; to his waiting and lonely arms.

When he returned for her, he could scarcely breathe. She lay where he’d left her, virtually lifeless. He lifted her, gently to his chest and whispered to her. _I promised you that I would return. I promised that I’d never let you go again, and I won’t_. Just holding her wasn’t enough. He needed to feel every part of her. He needed Abbie to know how much he missed her, how long he had yearned for her touch. He kissed his way around her face until he found her lips. In that moment, he finally felt whole. Nothing would ever separate him from her touch again.

 


	3. Touch Pt. 3

He promised to never let her go again but it was a promise he couldn’t keep. The moment his feet touched the ground on the other side, Jenny was clawing at his hands, pulling Abbie’s frail body from his arms. He understood of course. His desperation to save Abbie was not greater than Jenny’s. It was simply different. That didn’t stop a deep seated rage from building within him.

 _Mine_. The word reverberated throughout his soul, primal and loud in its voracity. Logic was fighting a losing battle against his need, yearning and instinct to hold and protect her. He watched as Joe kneeled next to her, checking her responses and taking her vitals. He bit back a growl as Jenny’s arms wrapped around her waist and Joe’s hands felt for a pulse and her wrist and neck. _Mine_ was on the tip of his tongue. He’d waited so long to touch her, to hold her, to feel her again. The inability for him to do so made his blood boil.

*          *          *          *          *          *

She was cold. She was tired. But most importantly, Abbie was overwhelmed. She could feel Jenny’s tears on her neck, searing her skin as if they were droplets of fire. Her sister’s arms came around her middle like a vice grip. Joe’s hands wandered and pressed into her flesh. She should have been happy to see them; she had been alone for so long. Abbie loved her sister immensely. Joe was like a brother to her, but all she could think was _not you. Him._

She whispered comforting platitudes beneath Jenny’s sobs. She tried not to recoil at all of the sensations bombarding her at one time. The sun was too bright; the birds chirped too loudly and the attention was too much. It was all too much after months of solitude. Panic swelled within her chest. _I can’t. I can’t! Please just go away!_ The words came out in a rush and she sought out the only person who would understand. One look was all it took. Everything subsided; the pain, the overload, the anxiety disappeared once she felt his arms cradle her to his chest.

*          *          *          *          *          *

The look of fear in her eyes set the beast loose. Damn the consequences and the animosity that he would endure from Jenny for taking her sister away. He could not stand by when it was clear she needed him. He needed to reach out to her; he needed to hold her, to keep her safe. He needed to be the one to make her whole again and only his touch could do that.

*          *          *          *          *          *

 _Back away. It’s too much for her! Let me get her home. Let her rest._ With her head next to Ichabod’s chest, Abbie could feel the vibrations of his baritone voice beside her ear. The quick, rhythmic breaths he took in his anger pressed against her upper body creating a constant hum within her. It soothed the tatters of her soul being able to feel him; to be near him. She would deal with the fallout later. For the time being, there was nowhere else she would rather be. There was no one else.


	4. Touch Pt. 4

She pretended to be fine. _Are you well, Lieutenant?_  She'd laugh off every check-in and tell him that she was fine; that she had made it, that they had both made it.

He had attempted to carry her from the car into their home but again, she laughed it away. _I was alone for months Crane. I may have felt myself going a bit mad - which I didn't - but I can still walk._ It hurt less if she played it off. The mere thought of her time in isolation would cause her to begin to lose her grip so, she tried to joke it away.

She repeated to herself over and over again, _I'm not crazy. This is real. I'm not crazy. This is real._ She took in the once familiar sights and smells of her home - of their home. She ran her fingertips over every surface within arm’s reach. Each one sent a different and new shockwave of sensation through her body. She could feel Crane’s eyes on her, a persistent presence that was both comforting and disconcerting, walking slowly behind her.

She began to whisper to herself _please be real. Please be real._ She could feel him there through their bond and yet, not touching him made her breaths come short. It made her believe she was once again in the Catacombs, living in a monotonous delirium of solitude. Abbie reached behind her without looking and took his hand in hers. Feeling him behind her, solid and real soothed her nerves and lowered the hackles of fear that had begun to show themselves.

She had noticed that he seemed as desperate for her touch as she was of his but she didn’t say so. She knew what had saved her life. It wasn’t just their partnership that had sent him. It wasn’t just their roles as Witnesses. They were forever entwined. Their union was forged into an unbreakable bond; a bond that had called him to her. It was that bond that made her speak to him, call out to him and imagine him with her all while she was lost. It was that very connection, deep seated and all-encompassing that made her reach out to touch him now.

  
There were so many things that she wanted to say, needed to say. There were so many words that she felt rise up in her throat only to be swallowed back down in fear. Was her need for contact and communication playing with her mind? Was it simply the expedited passage of time that made her feelings for him change irrevocably? Was this link that they shared, this bond, predestined? Did they have no say in what came next?

Her eyes caught his. They seemed to be pondering the same things that were going through her mind. What this would mean for them, she couldn’t tell. The universe would give them no glimpses at the future. In the end, she isn’t sure it would have mattered. They were in the here and now; together, bonded and bound together by something greater than both of them.

Framing his face with her hands, Abbie ran the tip of her thumbs over his beard, reveling in the contradictory sensations. Her eyes roamed from lips to nose to eyes, taking all of him in, trying to commit his face to memory so that she would never lose him again. As close as they stood, there was still a great void between them; a void that only touch could surmount.


	5. Touch Pt. 5

He opened his mouth to speak; dozens of questions rolling around on his tongue. _Are you well, Lieutenant? Is this what you want? Is this what you need? Are you sure, Lieutenant; e_ ach question seemingly more important, more pressing than the first. Each one evaporated in a misty haze when Abbie placed her finger on his lips, silencing him before he could begin.

It was such a simple gesture. She may be small but she was mighty and that simple touch, the feel of her fingertip pressed against his mouth, was enough to bring him to his knees. Her eyes bore into his, telling him everything that she couldn’t voice aloud. His hands moved like demons possessed, of their own accord and destined to roam, promising fulfillment and sin in unison.

*          *          *          *          *

 

It had been a part of their relationship, their bond from the start; the need to touch and feel each other. It served to strengthen that invisible tether that linked them together. Clasping hands; fierce, tight embraces; the gentle caress of a hand against the side of the face; a soft kiss placed on the crown of the head was nothing new to them. And yet, in that moment, they became something new. They became something _more_.

Now, when their fingers linked together, it was Abbie bringing Ichabod’s hand to her chest. An embraced was no longer chaste and hindered by layers of fabric and thread. Now it was raw. It was fire; nothing but flesh and bone and sweat. They were bare to each other. Caresses went from tender to rough. Their kisses were needy and hot, leaving searing trails on damp skin.

*          *          *          *          *

Abbie pushed aside her fears. She pushed aside every doubt that screamed in her mind. There was no room for them anymore. There was only enough room for him. The man that had traveled through the centuries to be at her side – whether knowingly or not; the man who had braved hell for her; the touch of the man who had journeyed across worlds to find her was the only thing that mattered anymore.

Feeling the weight of his body press her deeper into his mattress eased the strain she’d been feeling returning to this world. With each snap of his hips, the sensation of him filling her over and over again, Abbie moved further and further away from those sun-illuminated cave walls. Each lonely day was replaced by a kiss, a moan, a touch of his hand until she came undone.

*          *          *          *          *

Ichabod savored the silence. He relished the sensation of Abbie’s curvaceous form pressed against his side as she slept. He held dear the notion that he was able to help her when nothing and no one else could. He ran the tips of his fingers down the valley of her spine and across the hand that lay on his chest as she slumbered. Even after learning each other’s bodies and touch in a way they never had before, he still couldn’t get enough.

Abbie had whispered to him before she closed her eyes, that his touch had saved her soul. He told her that she was wrong, that her touch had saved his. Now, in the quiet with dying rays of sun kissing their skin, he realized that they had both been wrong. He hadn’t saved her nor had she saved him. They had saved each other. Pulling Abbie closer, Ichabod soon slept; their bodies touching and giving them both peace.  

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I do not own Sleepy Hollow or any of the characters therein.


End file.
